katniss brings peeta bouquets of wildflowers from the meadow and woods after she hunts. peeta puts them in a vase they bought together and that he painted. peeta let’s katniss be the first taste tester for anything new he thinks of adding to the bakery and she tries them all eagerly and asks if he ever needs other herbs. katniss does the laundry because she picked up a few tricks from hazelle over the years and peeta was never very good at it. peeta cooks because katniss always had to growing up and he wants her to not have to have that responsibility. katniss opens the window for peeta before they go to bed each night and peeta always makes sure the top sheet is untucked before katniss gets in because she hates falling asleep with it tucked. when katniss learns she’s pregnant, peeta paints the walls of the nursery and she builds the crib herself. they fit in a balanced way. they make each other stronger and though they have their differences they are not differences that harm them but rather ones that make them work together more smoothly <3
37. Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.
Post-Mockingjay
"What is that?"
Since Peeta's hands were full of sticky dough and he wasn't ready to clean them off yet because that would be admitting failure, and goddammit everything about this day wasn't allowed to be shit, he raised a shoulder and wiped his forehead against a corner of his t-shirt to catch the itch at his hairline that emerged when Katniss walked in the room. He'd had too little sleep, too much sticky summer heat, and too many shiny thoughts hanging out in the corner of his mind, ready to drop him into the grip of an episode if he let his guard down. A day where going through the motions of living hardly felt worth it. He couldn't say that, though, not to Katniss.
He was definitely stalling. "It's supposed to be bread."
"Oh." Katniss's tone implied the lumpy, off-white mess covering the countertop didn't look like bread.
"What is it actually? A mess."
She moved and stood next to him at the counter, peering around his arm. "It looks a little wet," she said.
Peeta huffed. "It's a type of sourdough, a recipe I tried from memory, but obviously, I used too much...something wet." He didn't mean to sound so defeated over something as minor as ruined bread, but there it was. He reached for the dry towel and began wiping the sticky bits embedded in the crevices of his nailbeds and between his fingers.
She moved closer to him, slipping her arm around his waist and resting her forehead against his bicep. "Tell me what I can do to help," she said. Her voice was soft; the offer didn't seem to solely mean the bread dough.
Peeta dropped the towel and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against his body so tight he had to remind himself not to crush her as the wave of emotion hit fast and sharp. The thing about the bad days was how lonely they made him feel. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "This is good," he said, leaning some of his weight on her. Katniss never seemed to mind. She seemed to like holding him as much as he liked being held.
As they stood together, he felt the pressure lessen, dribble out drip, drip, drip, until he didn't feel so consumed by it. He stepped away from Katniss.
She smiled brilliantly at him. "Better?"
"I think so," he said, clearing his throat.
The mess on the counter was disposed of in short order. Katniss held the refuse bin up to the ledge while Peeta used his bench scraper to scoop the whole mess away with a sense of finality that made him smile to himself. She helped him further clean the kitchen, the two working in companionable silence. Once they were done, he remembered the leftover chocolate-studded rolls from yesterday. He had no idea how he'd forgotten them.
The day ended much better than it began, with Katniss climbing into his lap and licking a smidge of chocolate from the corner of his lips. She kissed him then, further playing aggressor which he loved, sighing against his lips, her body melting against his like she needed and wanted him as much as he needed and wanted her.
do you ever just sit and think about how much everlark must love the fact that their children are (minus the eye colors) perfect replicas of each other? that they each have a carbon copy of the person they love the most in the world? a love that was so deeply rooted in their childhood years? because i do
Summary: Sometimes, the simplest things hold the biggest memories. Post-Mockingjay. From Katniss’ and Buttercup’s POV.
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It is time to clean house.
I tell myself that as I stare into what was Prim’s bedroom. It stands frozen in time, a shrine that was never meant to be. There’s still an imprint of her on the quilt that rests on the empty bed. I can almost see her there, legs curled and looking over her book of medicinal plants and herbs.
Everlark doing their before-bed rituals in the later stages of the GBT phase, or just after they are together again. Creams on their skin, for scars and skin grafts and leg, Peeta brushing her hair and her helping him detach his prosthetic for the night, and afterwards, cuddling.
My apologies for the tardiness!
I was listening to both Billie Eilish's "Ocean Eyes" and SYML's "Girl" while I was writing this so it has a little chillwave vibe.
My timeline for this is about 2-3 years after the rebellion.
Thanks for the prompt @albinokittens300!
Rated T
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This evening, he’s tired.
Life has never been easy in District 12.
However, when Peeta decided to finally look over the property that was once Mellark Bakery, he didn’t consider the toll that it would take mentally and physically. His head is aching with memories of his family. Of his father’s bright but weary smile or the verbose laughter of his eldest brother. Even his mother’s starchy voice echoes in his ears when he glances at the remnants of their brick oven.
He spent the rest of the day visualizing what could be.
Peeta walked through the grounds knowing that his bakery will not be the same as his parents’. He wants a place for townsfolk to sit down and enjoy what he creates. There are no lines between Seam and Merchant; there aren’t enough people to have any. So, he will create a space for the classes to merge.
Peeta aches as he plops down on their bed.
“Long day, huh?”
Katniss is already on her knees before him. Beside her, towels and a washbowl sit along with a jar of salve. She carefully helps him remove his bottoms, revealing the prosthetic that he wears.
He gives her a wry smile. “Maybe if we hadn’t been through a rebellion, it wouldn’t feel like it.”
“Do you think you’ll do it? Begin again?”
Katniss helps him remove the prosthetic before setting it aside. She cleans it when he’s sleeping—or when he pretends to, anyway. Behind his half-opened eyes, Peeta watches as she examines the socket and suspension making sure that nothing needs replacing. Occasionally, replacement parts will arrive from the Capitol, and she’ll replace them quietly so as not to bother his faux slumber.
Katniss is not good with words, but her actions speak volumes and that’s enough for him.
He looks at her. “Do you think I can?”
She washes his stump as she thinks over his questions. Peeta tries not to let his insecurities get to him, but to see what’s left of his leg leaves him with a sense of shame—like he’s not a real person.
A real man.
“I know you can do it. You were the heart of Mellark Bakery,” Katniss tells him as she dries him off then massages him with the salve. She settles back, examining his expression. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Maybe seeing the bakery space took a lot out of me. Or maybe it’s this—” He waves a hand at the stump. “I don’t feel complete…or like a real man.”
Katniss raises a brow, her dark eyes gazing up at him. Her stare is full, blazing with a fire that has never faded over the years.
“Trust me—” Her palms move along his firm thighs and Peeta feels that immediate twitch of his cock. “—you are a real man.” She places a tender kiss on the flesh of his stump, and he feels it everywhere. “It’s not about body, but about spirit—about love. You love fully, and that’s real.”
“Come here.” Peeta tugs at her hand gently, and she rises slowly. Wrapping a hand around the nape of her neck, he kisses her fully. She hums along his lips, that call of her hunger making him ache for her. “Thank you.”
Her hands go to his hair, massaging his scalp and he closes his eyes. “Of course.”
“You’re going to do this with me, right?” Peeta lifts his gaze, seeing her beautiful and golden even in the dim glow of their bedroom. “The bakery?”
“Of course.” Her mouth presses to his. “Together.”
That’s enough for him. “Together.”
Then, there is silence and only low moans as Katniss enjoys the physical aspects of what makes him a man.
++++++
Katniss examines herself in the mirror, a frown marring her expression. She’s not a vain person, but today at the opening of the Mellark Bakery, she felt her insecurities laid out before her.
Today wasn’t about her, but Katniss wanted to be there for Peeta.
She wants to be worthy of being by his side. Be a worthy partner.
Just like the Games, Peeta is all charm. He smiles openly at the customers and gives cookies to the children. He reserves a table for Haymitch so he’s not constantly at home, obsessing over his geese and alcohol supply. Their mentor watched proudly as Peeta doled out a celebration cake, giving Haymitch the second piece.
Hers was the first, of course.
However, there are the women.
Women, who order from him and flirt openly, barely acknowledging her by his side. Women in short sundresses with smooth shoulders and flawless bare legs, not a mark on them. He doesn’t respond, his eyes only for her, but damn if it doesn’t hurt.
She sits in bed, her eyes going to the scars on her legs and the skin graft on her outer thigh. There’s more on her back and along her front. The shallow part of her silently mourns when summer comes, and District 12 runs humid.
“What are you doing?” Peeta stands at the doorway, ready for bed. He approaches, sitting at the foot. He fingers the hem of her white nightgown, and she tugs backs, covering her scars. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Katniss—” He reaches to her bedside where the salve sits. “Don’t hide from me.”
“How can I hide? All my imperfections are out for everyone to see.” She draws in, wrapping her arms around herself. “I see the way people look at you then at me. I’m broken.”
Peeta tuts at her words. He opens the salve, dabbing at the exposed skin grafts on her shoulders. He kisses the back of her neck, and she sighs in pleasure.
“We’re both broken,” he says against her skin. “I think that we’ve mended up stronger than we ever thought we could—because we’re together. We fill those empty spots in each other. Like…soulmates.”
Katniss can practically feel his blush as he continues taking care of her scars. She once jokingly scoffed at the concept, earning a scowl from him. However, as he moves the hem of her nightgown, his gaze on her body adoringly unabashed, Katniss believes fully in the concept.
Their eyes meet, and she nods. “Yes, soulmates.”
His smile at her agreement rivals the dawn.
After Peeta places the salve back on her table, he helps her slip under their sheets and undoes her braid, running his fingers gently through her thick tendrils to untangle any snags.
Her eyes grow heavy, and she feels Peeta pull her close. Her head goes to his chest, her body pressing against the line of his own.
